


Practice

by jamjar



Category: Slam Dunk
Genre: M/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2006, recipient:ju
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamjar/pseuds/jamjar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everything is immediate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice

  


## Practice

 

Fandom: [Slam Dunk (anime or manga)](http://yuletidetreasure.org/get_fandom_quicksearch.cgi?Fandom=Slam%20Dunk%20\(anime%20or%20manga\))

 

Written for: ju in the Yuletide 2006 Challenge

by [jamjar](http://yuletidetreasure.org/cgi-bin/contact.cgi?filename=24/practice)

Thanks to Megolas, Caithion and Petronelle for help and support.   
I have absolutely no excuse for this pairing. None

 

_Ninensei/Sanensei Vs Ichinensei (21-15)_

 

Akagi is scowling, which is not unusual. At Sakuragi, which is even less so- Akagi is able to scowl at Sakuragi while smiling, which Kimonobu privately views as an impressive feat. "Idiot," he says, under his breath.

 

"He's just enthusiastic," Kimonobu says. "It's a virtue."

 

Akagi snorts. "Make him stretch before he hurts himself," he says, sounding vaguely wistful. "Or someone else."

 

"I'm sure he appreciates your concern," Kiminobu says. "Sakuragi!"

 

"Megane-kun!"

 

Kiminobu doesn't wince at the nickname the way he would coming from someone else. He could, he knows, have come out a lot worse. "Let me help you stretch," he says.

 

Sakuragi frowns. It's not a subtle expression, but then none of his expressions are. "But I just wanted to show Haruka my new--"

 

"Please," Kiminobu says. "The team can't afford to have you injured." The appeal to his ego is successful. For all his bravado, his utter confidence, Sakuragi is utterly susceptible to praise.

 

He watches Sakuragi stretch, holding his legs in place, doing pair stretches. Hanamichi's hands are huge, even for someone his size, and Kiminobu can feel the calluses, how they differ from his own and how they are the same. Practice leaves its marks.

 

"You're really getting better," he says out of nowhere.

 

Sakuragi doesn't blink at the sudden remark, just grins wide enough to split his face in two and nods, "Yeah! I'm the greatest rookie ever, even that fox-bastard knows it, that's why he hates me so much. Megane-kun is--"

 

"Kiminobu," he interrupts. "Please, call me Kiminobu." And that's the other advantage of Sakuragi; it's almost impossible to be pushy with him.

 

"Kiminobu?" Sakuragi says, blankly.

 

"It's my first name. Kogure Kiminobu," he says, making a slight, joking bow over their linked hands.

 

"I knew that," Sakuragi says. "Kichin, Kimichin..." trying it out. "And you can call me Hanamichi," he says. "'Cause we're friends, right?"

 

Kiminobu nods. "More than friends; teammates."

 

Hanamichi's smile is brilliant, and Kiminobu concentrates on that and ignores, with at least partial success, the long, appealing lines of his body, the strength of his hands, the warmth of his skin.

_Shohoku Vs Asahigaoka (84 to 72)_

 

The coach is bigger than they need, even with the subs, the supporting players, the double-seat for the Coach and lunches for the team.

 

Kiminobu checks over the list with Ayako, making sure they have enough Pocari Sweat for everyone, and Aquarius for Miyagi who claims Pocari makes him sick. And then the snacks, and double-checking that everyone has their uniform, because last time, Miyagi had to borrow Akagi's spare top, and that was just...

 

Well, entertaining. But not good.

 

Mitsui is standing in the aisle, putting his bag overhead. Seating arrangements are difficult in the Shohoku camp-- tallest on the aisles, except for Rukawa who needs a window to sleep against, Sakuragi close to someone calm, or at least, not easily intimidated. Mitsui at a window because he gets travel-sick. Akagi at the front, and Ayako next to him partly so they can talk, but also because she's smaller than any of the other players.

 

"Finished sorting us out?" Mitsui grins and sits down, resting his arm against the window. "Big sister Kogure," Mitsui says as he sits down. "You're always looking after us, Kiminobu-Ane."

 

Kiminobu pushes his glasses back on his nose and tries to look sinister and caring. "I'm just looking out for my boys," in an overly thick Osaka accent.

 

Mitsui shakes his head. "That's very wrong."

 

"What is?" Miyagi says, standing up in the seat behind him to look over.

 

"Kogure as a yakuza woman. One of the classy ones."

 

Miyagi tilts his head, making his earring flash. "Huh. I can see it. In a proper kimono, right? And a sword and bodyguards and a secret web of control over all the underground. And a big tattoo, some kind of bird or dragon or something, right across your ba--"

 

Miyagi is cut short by Ayako's experienced, targeted violence. "Sit down," she says. "We're about to move."

 

He looks hurt for a second, then smiles. "And you're coming to sit next to me! Aya-chan, you're so--"

 

"Idiot. I'm sitting with Akagi and the sane people." She smiles. "You get Sakuragi."

 

"Is he here?" Kiminobu says, looking for him, something he knows is foolish and unnecessary. If Hanamichi was there, he would know it. Hanamichi's presence is not subtle.

 

"Mito-kun phoned and let me know they're bringing him." She shakes her head. "Apparently, it's a group effort to get him here on time.

 

Kiminobu smiles, relieved.

 

Seconds later, Hanamichi appears on the coach, loud and flustered and instantly deserving Akagi's loving discipline, before finding his seat. He spreads out, legs along the aisle so Kiminobu can see his shoes.

 

Hanamichi catches him looking and wiggles them. "Look, new!"

 

"They look very nice."

 

Hanamichi nods. "Yes! They were expensive, but I bargained the salesman down to a thousand yen." He sounds very proud of himself. "Because he should be proud to have his shoes on the feet of the best basketball player in the city-- no, the prefecture. In Ja-- Hey!" He rubs his head where Miyagi has smacked it.

 

They look very new and very shiny, and Kiminobu would be surprised if they sold for less than ten thousand yen. He wonders if the shopkeeper was intimated by Hanamichi, or simply bulldozed over by the force of Hanamichi's personality, his charm, until he was handing over expensive imported shoes for a fraction of their price.

 

"Will you be okay in new shoes? They won't blister--" Kiminobu starts to say, but is interrupted by Ayako in the front.

 

"Okay, we're all here. We should be at Tagajou by 10.30, and playing by 11.

 

Akagi stands next to her, ducking his head to avoid the ceiling. "We're very grateful to Yasuda's father for lending us the coach and driving us there, so we will all behave." He stares at where Hanamichi and Miyagi are sitting. "No yelling, no fighting."

 

"I'll be very angry if anything starts," Ayako adds. She moves forwards and hands Mitsui her paper fan. "Here, if he starts acting up..." she says, nodding at the two boys sitting behind them. She hesitates, then says, "Wait, give it to Kogure. I don't think I can trust you with it."

 

She walks up and down the aisle, last-minute roll-call. Hanamichi draws his legs in when she goes past and puts them back when she passes, stretching his legs. Kiminobu can see at least two inches of skin between where the socks have slipped down and the trouser legs ridden up, and he thinks if he reached down, he could put his hand there.

 

Kiminobu often has thoughts like this, but he's careful not to act on them when it couldn't be explained.

_Kogure Kiminobu vs Sakuragi Hanamichi_

 

Kiminobu's room is neat, tidy, even with Hanamichi spread across the chair and his endless piles of messy notes doing their best to invade Kiminobu's nicely organised folders. It's entirely reasonable -good for the team, even- for Kiminobu to help Hanamichi with his homework, but that has absolutely nothing to do with why Kiminobu invited him here.

 

He knows this, and he's still surprised (by his own courage, if nothing else) when he taps Hanamichi on the shoulder, waits for him to look up from the maths workbook, and kisses him.

 

It's short, just a moment, and then Hanamichi pulls back. He doesn't look angry or disgusted, so much as shocked. Confused, and Kiminobu has a moment to wonder which reason it is. Someone's kissed me, a boy kissed me, Megane-kun kissed anyone...

 

"Sorry," he says, automatic and meaningless. Sorry is a good word to say into the silence. "I know you didn't come here expecting... sorry."

 

"It's okay," Hanamichi says automatically. He puts his hand to his mouth and the gesture is so bizarrely feminine that Kiminobu smiles without meaning to. "You like boys," he says, sounding disappointingly unsurprised. He frowns at Kiminobu and says, "But what about Mitchin?"

 

"Where?" Kiminobu turns around to look for him automatically.

 

"No, I mean... why aren't you-- I thought you and Mitchin were..."

 

He trails off and Kiminobu is a little surprised, but mostly amused. "Because of our past?" He sits down on his bed. His room is small enough that this still puts him squarely next to Hanamichi. Hanamichi hasn't yelled, hasn't hit him or frozen in shock, and Kiminobu is willing to go with whatever it takes to keep Hanamichi here and relatively calm.

 

"And because he's-- you know." Hanamichi ducks his head, embarrassed.

 

"Is he?" And it's possible, Kiminobu supposes, but Mitsui hasn't said anything to him.

 

"Isn't he? I just figured, 'cause the hair, and he doesn't like any girls. Ever." The last said with shock and Hanamichi shaking his head, like he just couldn't understand. Fifty rejections and still trying.

 

"Ah." And if he could find a way to take this moment out of context, Kiminobu would repeat it to Mitsui, just to see him splutter. "I think he just hasn't reached that stage, yet." He pictures Mitsui as a thwarted adolescent, first year of junior high, so focussed on basketball, then its absence, then basketball again, that anything else just hasn't occurred to him.

 

Hanamichi nods violently. "Yes, yes. He's not mature, not like me and Ryochin and you." And then stops, opens his eyes wide and looks at Kiminobu askance, brought back to the topic. "You like me," he says.

 

"Yes, very much." And it is almost like being drunk, almost like how Kiminobu imagines it. Momentum pushing him over inhibitions, over common sense and propriety.

 

It's almost like a hard game, played well, when you're exhausted and the opposing team seems to have about 300 players on the court, and you still can't stop playing, the crowd behind you pushing you on.

 

It's almost like any conversation with Hanamichi, force of spirit and sheer volume propelling you on to a conclusion that has very little to do with how it started.

 

"I don't-- I haven't--" Hanamichi stops, and Kiminobu fills in the missing words --I don't like boys, I haven't kissed anyone who wanted me-- and it's so rare to see Hanamichi like this, uncertain. Unnatural. It's enough to make him want to take his words back.

 

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to," Kiminobu says. "You don't have to-- I just wanted you to know. How I felt."

 

Hanamichi snorts. "Yeah, I know what that's like. You gotta tell, even if you know that she's just gonna..." He shakes his head to clear it. He looks at him, eyebrows drawing down in a sharp frown that makes him look older. He looks at Kiminobu like he's trying to find something, trying to work something out. "You're kind of pretty," he says slowly, like he's just worked it out and is still testing it. "You'd be really cute if--" He brings his hand up, slowly, and Kiminobu feels careful, cautious fingers on the side of his face. Still frowning, Hanamichi ducks his head, brings his mouth down, and it's tense for a moment, anxious on both their sides, then Hanamichi relaxes and opens his mouth, just a little, and...

_(Tie)_

 

Read [posted comments](http://www.yuletidetreasure.org/archive/24/practice_cmt.html).

 

  
  
  


    


 


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